


Archadian Night

by phantomhime



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomhime/pseuds/phantomhime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Archadian Night

She did not know why he had come.

Her door had been unlocked, as she sat on the plush loveseat by the open window, taking in the grandeur of the foreign city sprawled out before her. She was  newly bathed and  wearing only her nightgown, a brand new one of silk and lace, bought the very same day. Ashe had insisted she get something to sleep in, as they were to take into a small hotel in the Tsenoble area for the night. Such luxuries were rare for them, most of their nights were spent on thin bedrolls under the bare sky and stars, sleeping lightly under the ever-present threats of fiends or soldiers. This night would be a hard-earned reward, but also a necessary one. The next day might be the most important one of their journey, and they needed to be well-rested and prepared. Their supplies had run short from the hard journey behind them, and their gear had become worn and battered. As such, they set their first day in Archades aside for wandering the shops in the merchant district, splitting up into smaller groups to avoid suspicion. She had been grouped with Ashe, and the exiled princess made short work of acquiring their necessary supplies. Fitted with new weapons and having restocked their array of potions and medical supplies, the princess, to Penelo’s dismay, pressed on towards stores carrying less urgent wares.

_”The day is still young”_ , the princess had said, _”We are not supposed to meet the others for another three hours. When was the last time you bought new clothes, Penelo?”_

And Penelo had reluctantly admitted that she had never bought clothes from a store like the ones Ashe was bringing her into. They were all extravagant boutiques, the places noblewomen acquired their fine garbs. The garments hanging on racks and displayed on mannequins were all more luxurious than anything Penelo had ever seen up close. She was used to buying her clothes from a traveling saleswoman who often made stops in Lowtown, carrying wares from all of Ivalice’s corners, acquired through different means. Clothes had never been of a priority to Penelo, she couldn’t afford them to be. As long as they did their duty and kept her cool in the hot Dalmascan sun, she was satisfied with them.

But the princess, of course, had a different view on clothing. Being raised royal, her perception of everyday garb differed greatly from Penelo’s. Even though her travel ensemble was far from what a princess would ordinarily wear, Penelo could still see that they were quality garments, unlike the worn-out getups Penelo and Vaan wore. The clothes she wore while still at her position at court in Rabanastre would have been unlike anything a girl like Penelo could ever dream of having. Sometimes, Penelo saw the Dalmascan upperclass women, when she had to run an errand for Migelo to the higher-class areas of Rabanastre. They wore fine, flowing chiffon dresses in light, powdery shades; delicate like desert flowers. Penelo had never seen her princess up close before they met during their journey, but her everyday gowns must have been the grandest of all. She could still remember one of the few times she had seen Ashe, during the royal wedding two years past. The wedding gown Ashe wore that day was the brightest, most pure white Penelo had seen, even from hundreds of feet away up on the palace balcony. In the back of her mind, Penelo had wondered if she would ever get to wear a grand white dress to her own wedding some day. She had seen them in the windows of the shops on the fancier streets of Rabanastre, in the upper side where the wealthy lived. She had never dared enter one of those stores, she knew the shopkeepers would tell immediately that she could not afford so much as a hairpin. But to Ashe, the grandeur of the Archadian boutiques with the doting saleswomen and perfumed air was completely normal.

Archadian fashion was not particularly to Penelo’s liking. It consisted of far too much fabrics, layers upon layers of rich cottons, velvets and chiffons to show one’s wealth. She preferred the simplicity of Dalmascan styles, where practicality always came first. So for Ashe to find her clothing in stores like these, proved to be a challenge. The princess made her try on ensemble after ensemble, only to always give in when she saw how miserable the girl looked in them. Only when they came across a tiny shop selling Rozarrian fashions, were they on the right track. The older woman running the place greeted them in the rolling, melodious accent of the western kingdom, and immediately set her eyes on Penelo. Only moments later was she in the dressing room again, this time trying on the looser, flowing silhouettes of Rozarrian noblewomen’s clothing. When she exited, the look on Ashe’s face told her that she would finally be let off the hook. The burgundy flowing pants and grey short top went together perfectly, suiting her body in the optimal ways. The top fit her thin torso perfectly, and the pants hung low on her hips before gathering at her shin, providing mobility and comfort. Less constricting than Archadian clothing, but yet more formal than Dalmascan. The perfect fit for Penelo, they would allow her great freedom of movement to fight, yet still looking greatly more formal than her usual clothes, better for blending into the crowds in a city like Archades. With no further options considered, the garments were hers in a minute, the princess paying for her happily.

Before they left the store, Ashe told her to try on one more thing. A thin nightgown of lilac silk, trimmed with the most delicate of lace. Penelo had shook her head in horror at the suggestion, she had never owned nor longed for such a superfluous garment. But Ashe had insisted, stating that she should make the most of their upcoming night at the hotel. There was no better feeling than going to bed newly bathed and dressed in a fine nightgown, she said, and eventually, Penelo gave in. She did not know whether it simply was to please Ashe, or whether she, somewhere deep inside, wanted to know what it was like to wear such a thing.

The nightgown fit her perfectly. The hem hit her at mid-thigh, and the delicate, thin straps and breeziness of it made it comfortable to wear in the heat of summer. Upon hearing that it fit, Ashe had bough it for her instantly, with her own funds. Now, Penelo was sitting in her room at the hotel dressed in it, letting the soft breeze flow through the window and blow through her untied hair. No matter how weary she was, she could not sleep. She had been lucky to get her own room, Ashe and Fran had been made to share, as had Vaan and Basch. Penelo thought Ashe would have preferred sharing with the captain von Ronsenburg, but the two had to keep their distance in public areas. It was too risky to have them attract attention, as their faces were the most easily recognizable, especially together. But Penelo suspected the princess probably wouldn’t have any troubles sharing a room with Fran, for the viera rarely slept much anyways. Her kind seemed to only need a few hours a night, and even when asleep, they were still very much aware of their surroundings, waking at the slightest sound.

But Penelo had received her own room for the night. It was strange, she should have enjoyed the privacy for once, but it only felt bizarre to her. She had almost never slept completely alone; in Rabanastre, Vaan or some of the other orphan kids were always there, snoring or making noise in some other way. When her parents were alive and she still had a family, she used to share a room with her older brothers. The silence of the room was almost deafening when she laid herself down on the bed and tried to sleep. The bed felt strange too, it was almost too soft, too comfortable. She was so used to sleeping on the ground or on just a couple of blankets, the bed only seemed to make her sink into it, trapping her and leaving her feeling confined. So she had given up on sleep for the moment, and sat at the window, studying the city outside. That was when a knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts.

_Strange,_ she thought, _could it be Vaan who wants something? Ashe?_ But she was fairly certain the others were asleep by now. A glance at an intricate filigree clock hanging on the wall told her that it was a quarter to one in the night. She had been staring out the window for half an hour already.

”Come in,” she called softly, taking the neatly folded blanket that rested on the loveseat and pulling it around her shoulders to cover herself. She didn’t know who was visiting her, after all. It could be one of the men.

The heavy door opened carefully, and Penelo turned around in her seat to greet her guest.

It was Balthier. She tried to stutter out a greeting, an inquiry as to why he had come, but her surprise incapacitated her.

”I’m awfully sorry for disturbing you at an hour such as this,” he said in the same gentlemanly fashion as always. ”Would it trouble you if I invited myself in?”

Penelo was brought out of her daze by his question, and shook her head gently.

”No, not at all…” she mumbled, though she did not know why she accepted his intrusion. What errand could he have with her?

Balthier entered the room with a smile, closing the door behind him. He was dressed in his customary leather trousers and white shirt, though his intricate vest was missing, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. It was a strange and unusual appearance for him, who took utmost care to look impeccable in any and all situations. Penelo had only seen him like this once or twice before during their travels, when she had awoken during the night to see him awake by the fireplace, standing guard over their group. He was always clean-shaven, yet she had never seen him with a shaving knife in hand.

  
Penelo remained seated as he entered her room, not sure what to do now. What did he expect from her?  
”If I may ask, why are you here Balthier? Is something the matter?” She finally asked, hoping that he’d state his business with her. Balthier still smiled that confident, at times annoying smirk of his, as he took a step towards her bed, sitting down at the edge of it. Penelo was slightly shocked by their casual position.

”Dear girl, the matter is not big. I simply found that sleep was evading me, and judging from the light coming from underneath your door, you were in a similar position yourself, Penelo.”

She couldn’t say anything, for he was correct. 

”I figured I could use some company,” he said, smirking at her. Suddenly, she was very aware of her state of undress, the blanket having slipped down her shoulders, revealing their bareness to her uninvited guest. She prayed he not take notice, but she knew that was foolish of her. It was Balthier, she knew as much.

”My pardons for intruding upon you in such a position, dear girl,” he said, with a hint of laughter on his voice, and Penelo felt her cheeks heating up. She hoped he would not see her flush all red.

”I-it’s okay,” she stammered, scrambling to gather the blanket closer to herself, but in the process, only revealed more of herself, her entire legs and part of her front uncovered to his eyes. She quickly realized her mistake, and rushed her covers into place again, but the damage was done.

”Ashe does have good taste, does she not?” 

Penelo’s eyes shot up to look at his, the first time since he entered her room that she actually looked him in the eyes. She clutched her blanket closer to herself in embarrassment.

”How do you know about that?” She cried quietly, and he huffed in laughter at her anger.

”Relax dear girl, the princess told me you purchased new clothing with her help. She said that your old clothing was hardly fitting for a girl your age.” 

Penelo huffed, she had not thought her old clothing unflattering, mind him. She had bought them with hard-earned money, and they had served her well.

”They weren’t that bad…” she mumbled, to his amusement. 

”Maybe not so, but I, at least, am of the belief that every woman should get to buy herself something she feels beautiful in once in a while. It makes me glad that Ashe took you to experience that,” he said with surprising honesty in his voice, making Penelo blush again. It was true, she had never gotten to experience that before, buying new clothing just because she felt beautiful in them, not because she simply needed something to wear. She rarely felt beautiful, so when she had put on her new nightgown after her bath and looked at herself in the mirror, the feeling was unfamiliar and strange to her. She looked so different in her new clothing, more like a woman and less like a girl.

”And you do look very beautiful, Penelo.” She saw his eyes wander over her, making her shiver under his scrutiny. Why did he say that? Surely he could not find her beautiful? She was but a girl in his eyes, nothing more than a child who had accidentally ended up getting dragged into their mission. She opened her mouth to say something, but she found she could not get any words to leave her lips.

”Lavender suits you well,” he said, smirking at her like always. She gasped audibly. Why had he come to her room in the middle of the night, saying such things? What did he want from her?

”Why I-” she huffed, gathering her covers even closer around her, standing up from her seat to go put on the hotel bathrobe that hung on its hook on the inside of the open bathroom door just a few steps away. She would not have him scrutinize her like this. But as she stood up and took a step, her foot caught on the large blanket she carried with her, ripping the thick material from her hands as she took her step. She was in the open before him, and she instantly jumped with a small noise of surprise, scrambling to reach down for her covers once again. But a larger hand on hers stopped her dead in her tracks with its light touch.

”Don’t,” he said calmly, warm brown eyes meeting hers, ”I would like to see you.”

Her heart was beating too fast in her chest, hand trembling as she took a shaky breath. She could not even bring herself to hang on when she felt the safety of the duvet cover being pulled away from her hands gently. Why did she not disagree? Why did she let him see her like this?

Was it perhaps… that she wanted him to see her? That somewhere within, she liked the way his mature gaze fell on her young body, the way he made his appreciation so clear to her? In some strange way, she felt his eyes on her, drinking in every sight she had to offer, and for the first time in her short life, she felt truly beautiful.

”Aren’t you a sight,” she heard him mumble to himself as his eyes wandered over her small frame. Her embarrassment returned after the brief moment of its absence, and she futilely tried to cover herself with her free arm. It was to no avail, his larger hand took a gentle but firm hold on her wrist, coaxing it away from her body. She could not bring herself to look him in the eye.

-

The soft, warm rays of the brass magicite-lamps in the room made her sun-kissed skin glow in an ethereal fashion as she stood there by the window, exposed to his gaze. He noticed details of her he had never previously spared a thought to, such as the small freckles adorning her peaked nose and sloping shoulders, or the way her light eyelashes fluttered against her full cheeks as she kept her gaze on the floor. For the first time, he noticed her body, and how its youthful slenderness combined with developing curves excited him in all the wrong ways. He noticed the dip in her prominent collarbone, the delectable inward curve of her tiny waist showing through the sheer nightgown. He saw her thin arms and thighs toned from dancing and combat, and her perfectly rounded hips. He could see how the lavender fabric peaked out at her small breasts, and he longed to run his hands along her sides, to feel all of her under his rough hands, to take in all of her young, untouched beauty.

By the gods, what was he thinking? She was but a girl, a child of sixteen, he was a grown man, all of nine years her senior! Then why was there an ever-growing desire for her burning within him? Why did he suddenly ache to touch her, to consume her and all of her pure innocence? Why did he crave to put his hands around her thin waist, run them along her smooth back, down her shapely legs, bringing her nightgown down with them… softly guiding her towards the double bed, lowering her nude form down on it, and indulging in every sweet, naive virginal pleasure she had to offer. No, he could not. He would not corrupt her in such a way. Even though he was sure that he could work his elderly charm on her young heart to make her give him anything he wanted, he prided himself on stronger morals than such. How had he not seen her intense beauty before? All he had seen had been juvenile childishness, a sweet girl caught up in something far too big for her, whom he spared not much thought. But that air of pubescent youthfulness had masked a beauty unlike any he had ever seen. It had only been unveiled when he saw her like this, so bare and open, all defenses lowered in the privacy of her own quarters. Was it the fact that she was so unaware of her own radiance that made her so impossibly magnificent? He did not know, but at the moment, he scarcely cared. The only thing he could think about was the fire inside him burning for her, screaming that he had to have her. He could not remember ever lusting for a woman, a girl no less, this intensely. He hated how he felt his restrain slip, he had never been a man who could not control his urges. He could feel himself coming closer and closer to losing his senses completely, his mind was rushing off on its own, and he could scarcely keep up. 

Swallowing dryly, Balthier gently let his hands drift upward along her arms, coming to rest just above her elbows before he knew it. Her velvet-soft skin was divine under his rough hands, her warmth seeping into him and making him fear for his sanity. How was she so impossibly marvelous?

”You are beautiful, Penelo,” he breathed, trying to seek out her sky-blue gaze, though she would not meet his. He could tell how insecure she was, and he did not pride himself in it. He knew he was being too intrusive, coming to her chambers in the late hours of night and violating her privacy, letting himself touch her like this. But gods be damned, he could not stop himself now.

Her bare skin was searing his palms with red-hot blissful agony, and he let them sink lower again, following her thin arms to her waist, where he slyly let them slip over to trace that delectable curve. He both heard and felt her breathe in sharply. The soft fabric of her gown slid smoothly under his hands as he touched her gently, but he wanted more, he craved the feeling of her skin under his fingers again; without thinking, he let his touch wander even lower past her hips, until they met the end of her gown at the start of her thigh. He could clearly feel the shiver that went through the entirety of her small body when he finally felt that smooth, bare skin; his palms now resting on the outside of her perfectly shaped thighs, fingertips just teasing underneath the swell of her buttocks. Inside of him, conflicting impulses and urges ran rampant, part of him wanted to pick her up by the hips and all but throw her down on the luxurious bed, helping himself to all he could manage; while another part of him longed to savor her, gently discovering every inch of her body, exploring her slowly until the sun crept in from the open window in the first hours of morning. He knew it was wrong, these sinful desires, she was not his to ravage and corrupt; but how scarcely he could now manage to resist. Her shaky breaths were music to his ears, her silken skin his biggest vice. Plump rosy lips glistening with moisture in the warm light, fair lashes fluttering against rounded cheeks as he ran his fingers through her flowing pale-golden hair, released from its usual braids and falling in soft waves to her back. How magnificent she was…

Letting his gaze travel upwards again, he was slightly disappointed to find that she would still not meet his eyes, instead looking distantly to the side. He wanted to see those alluring eyes again, to lose himself in their infinite celeste depths, so very different from his own, a true Dalmascan rarity. Softly touching his fingers under her smooth chin, he tilted her face towards him gently. She could no longer escape his gaze now, and he held hers for a few seconds, letting his fingers remain on her skin. She was close, too close, and the intoxicatingly fresh scent of lavender clinging to her hair made him drift closer and closer to madness.

Before Balthier could stop himself, he had leaned in and caught her lips with his own, claiming her in a tender but passionate kiss. Grasping her closer, his hands rested on her curved back as he kissed her, gently coaxing her idle lips to follow his movements. Her juvenile innocence showed itself clearly in her insecurity, and he doubted she had ever been kissed like this before; so he took his time to go slowly, teaching her the simple art with his every move. When he finally broke away from her she was out of breath and flushed, lips stained a deeper, sultry red. Her hands were resting on his chest as he held her close, relishing in her warmth and the divine scent of her hair enveloping him. He could not stay like this for long, not when she was looking at him like that, all fluttering lashes and blushed cheeks, lips swollen from his kisses, inviting him in for more. He had tasted the forbidden fruit, and he craved to consume the rest of it, when it was so readily available in front of him. Her whole being was tempting him, from the swell of her small breasts against his chest, to her slightly open lips breathing heavily, and the smooth skin of her neck begging him to lean in and kiss it. But he could not, he would not do it, he knew he needed to break away from her soon lest he lose his willpower. One more taste of her, and he would not be able to control himself anymore, driven mad by his lust for her, and he would take everything she had to offer without hesitation. In his rational mind, he knew he couldn’t bed the girl, not even a morally dubious pirate like himself had such immoral intents with a maid so young. No, he would not do it, he would stop himself while he still had the chance.

Pulling away from her felt like it took the strength of a thousand men, when all he wanted to do was pull her to him and kiss her breathless again. The look of confusion on her face was testing, but he willed himself to remove his hands from her, taking a step back to put respectable distance among them again.

”Forgive me,” he said hastily, straightening out his shirt and cuffs. ”I seem to have gotten a bit ahead of myself. I bid you good night.” He gave her a curt nod and took his leave before she could speak, a mere silent gasp was all she could muster. As he walked past her and let himself out the door, the imprint of her in the nightgown was burned into his mind, and would probably be for quite a while after this night. The door clicked closed behind him and he walked the short distance back to his room, thinking to himself that in all of Ivalice in this moment, there was no man with greater restraint than the sky pirate Balthier.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There might be more chapters, not sure yet.


End file.
